


Spike My Heart

by BGee93



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Banter, Bonding, Cooking, Dorms, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Family Bonding, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Meet-Ugly, Pining, Roommates, Sharing a Room, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Slow To Update, Video Chats, Volleyball, college students
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-05-01 15:06:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14523267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BGee93/pseuds/BGee93
Summary: Semi's first day in his dorm house does not go as he imagined it would.





	1. First Day.

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Challenge Accepted](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291407) by [Stacysmash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stacysmash/pseuds/Stacysmash). 



If anyone were to ask him how he imagines his first day at the dormhouse was to go, Eita certainly wouldn’t have described it to be quite like this. Him laying unconscious in front of what is to be his new room for at least the next year, a volleyball slowly rolling away and his new roommate shouting for help. Their booming voice echoing through the old house as if he was shouting through a megaphone.

The day began as normally as one would expect it to. Eita packed lightly, knowing from his years at Shiratorizawa, a prestigious private school that required its students to live on campus, that overpacking is a mistake. Especially when you’re going to be sharing a room with another person, a room which is already small to begin with. He also has the luxury of his childhood home being just over an hours bus ride away if he ever found himself needing anything. 

In all honesty, he wishes he isn’t about to spend another year, or more, sharing a room with another person. He’s been sharing rooms with someone else since Middle School. Sure, he’s used to it by now. But it would have been nice if he’d been able to secure one of the private rooms in the dormhouse rather than a shared one, but he’d put his application in too late and missed his chance this year. At least, he tells himself to lessen the annoyance, he won’t be sleeping on bunk beds anymore. That had been one of the first things he had checked for when he and his mom had toured the place earlier in the year right after he’d been accepted. Shiratorizawa prided themselves on having larger rooms for their students, the extra space provided only due to the bunk beds pushed against the far wall.

Yes, despite the fact that he will be sharing a room, once again, Eita finds himself looking forward to his school year at College. He’s still unsure what he wants to aim for but the school offers a general studies course to help those like him figure it out. So hopefully, as his mother oh so lovingly puts it, he’ll get his shit together by the end of the year and figure it out. 

Arriving at the front of the dormhouse Eita grabs his suitcase and two bags. One larger gym bag he’d used for overnight training camps and the smaller one he’d used for practice and games. Both full but not bursting at the seams. Waving and blowing his mom a kiss, ignoring the pull in his gut at her watery smile as she said bye, making him promise once again to call her once he was settled, Eita closed the car door with a solid thud. He waits for the car to disappear down the road before he shifts the bags on his shoulder, other hand pulling up the handle of the suitcase as he turns to the looming wooden door of his new home.

Taking a deep breath he walks up the stairs. Suitcase clunking up the stone steps noisily. Memories of the last time his mother dropped him off like this flashing through his mind. He’d made her promise not to come inside with him this time around. The previous time being when he’d began his first year at Shiratorizawa High. Tendou was his roommate then and he’d spent the whole first year digging up every spec of blackmail against the boisterous, odd redhead after he’d heard Eita cry himself to sleep that first night. Opening up once to Tendou about how he’s actually a bit of a mommy’s boy. Not to the extent the media likes to play up, but enough that it’s embarrassing to admit to. 

 

And so, after spending a week convincing her he would be alright, Eita walks into the dormhouse alone. Pushing his shoulder against the heavy wooden door he cringes as it creaks loudly open, groaning against his weight as he yanks his suitcase inside. Scoffing as it made the same gross, obnoxious sound while closing, Eita wonders how anyone could successfully sneak out after hours with a door like that. He’d forgotten about the sound when his mom and him had toured the place but the sound reminded him of how horrible and echoing the acoustics of the place are. 

_Someone needs to grease that ancient fucking door. Or just replace the whole damn thing..._

Kicking off his shoes in the entranceway, mentally reminding himself to dump his bags and come back down to place them on the shoe rack properly, Eita spared a glace around the entrance. The place sounded quiet, empty, yet the several pairs of shoes scattered around spoke otherwise. Grinning softly at what appears to be a few pairs of volleyball shoes Eita walks towards the kitchen.

“Hello?” his voice echoes easily through the air, carried by the acoustics of the old place. Stepping into the kitchen he breathes in the prominent scent of cooking rice. Another sign that at least one other person is there somewhere. Glancing around the room a few times he takes in the semi-familiar space. It’s been updated, the appliances more modern and all stainless steel. A hilarious contrast against how ancient the house seems to be. His eyes skim over the sign taped to the fridge, stating that all groceries are to be shared unless name tagged. 

The previous students had mentioned during the tour that they all put money into a fund to buy groceries. That they took turns every couple weeks to make sure the place was always stocked.

Beside the fridge stood the chalkboard, now wiped clean, which was for a chore schedule. It was also mentioned that depending on each others class schedule that some duties may be doubled up sometimes. Eita didn’t really mind, at least he wouldn’t be responsible for several things each day like at some of the other houses he’d toured. 

The house rules hung above the chore schedule which he ignored. His mother had written the rules down and slipped it inside his bag with his class schedule anyways. He’d look over it once he unpacked. Probably. Maybe. Meh, it’s not like the rules were overly specific anyways. Mostly things he already did mixed with common sense anyways, right?

As he turns to leave the kitchen his eyes catch a glimpse of what appeared to be a jersey hanging up in the laundry room. Side stepping to peer through the door just off the kitchen he confirms it to be a jersey which brings him back to the shoes by the entrance. Clearly at least one of his new roommates is a jock. Worrying his lip between his teeth Eita leaves kitchen as his thoughts turn to his undecided question over whether he’ll bother trying out for the schools volleyball team. Tryouts are next week, for those who didn’t get accepted by scholarship and are, therefor, guaranteed a spot. 

It’s not as if he’s lost his passion for the sport, far from it. But he accepts that he is no longer in High School. College sports are a whole different level and he’d only been slightly above average in High School. Now he would be around the average player level so more than likely if he were to be accepted to the team, he would spend most of it benched during games and exhausting himself beyond his limits during practice. It would feel exactly like a repeat of what happened with Shirabu, a wound to his pride that still feels fresh and deep despite it having happened nearly a year prior. Even Tendou and his mom learned not to bring it up to him anymore, even with words of comfort and reassurance. 

The weight of his bags began to feel heavier and heavier as he walks through an archway beside the kitchen and into a hallway. Glancing quickly inside the living room/lounge area he still sees no one else around. Shrugging he begins stepping up the long staircase to the second floor where his room is located. The house is three stories, the top level holding most of the extra rooms as well as another lounging area. The second floor is made up of a small library, stocked with leftover novels, textbooks being removed by College staff after someone abused them to further their education apparently, and a couple desks. The first floor is the communal areas like the kitchen, laundry room, larger lounge area which has a T.V. and sofas as well as a kotatsu table in the center. 

There is a basement where the private rooms are located, but Eita didn’t have permission during the tour to go look. He decides to check it out later if he has time.

He curses silently halfway up the stairs at his own stupidity. He should have left the suitcase downstairs, dumped the bags, and gone back for the heavier bag but no. He just had to try it all in one trip. Sweaty, panting, and now with achy muscles, Eita questions his own athletic ability by the time he huffs his way to the top. Groaning he released the suitcase, pulls the bags off his shoulder, and stretches. Cursing out again as they twitch and pulse under his flexing. 

After a few moments he grasps his items and walks past the first room, suitcase clunking and bags lazily dragging over the floor noisily. The sounds vibrate through the air so loudly Eita can’t help but think how easily everyone in the house could hear your every move.

_Geez, the whole damn house can probably hear you jacking off with how easily it echoes in here!_

He eyeballs the names written on the whiteboard attached to the door. He’s surprised that he recognizes both of them, pausing a moment to do a double take as he mouths over the characters slowly. Sure enough, both are previous rivals. It explains the jersey and shoes. Smirking at the wave of nostalgia, then sighing at the feel of defeat to one of the rivals, Eita pushes forward towards his own door. He’s located at the end of the hall. Nearing the door he finally hears muffled talking, as if a T.V. is playing inside his room. Stopping in front of it he reads off the name of his new roommate.

 _Bokuto Koutarou_. Rollfing the name over and over across his tongue as he tries to place where he knows that name. After several minutes of being unable to figure out how he knows the name, Eita is brought out of his train of thought by a yell from inside. Flinching he hesitates. A scowling cringe spreading across his face as his shoulders slump. The shouts inside grow and decrease so quickly Eita half debates on turning around and finding someone else to switch rooms with, whether it’s against the rules or not. The prospect of living with another loud personality already exhausting him mentally and physically. Shaking his head, bracing himself as he runs through the pep talk he created soon after living with Tendou, Semi drops his bags and grips the doorknob. Breathing in and out slowly, deeply, he swings the door open.

The situation escalated so quickly, there was no way in any level of hell Eita would have been able to react. A voice screams _’Duck!’_ just as the door is opened. A resounding smack, like a trigger being pulled, echoes from within the room. Eita vaguely remembers questioning why, what looks to be, a volleyball is being projectiled directly into his face when he’s nowhere near a court. And he tries, he truly does, to get out of its way once he clues in that it is in fact a real volleyball directed at him. Arms shooting up, but not quite making it far enough to cover him, in an attempt to save his face. He does remember the shooting, blinding pain that shocks throug him when the ball collides with his skin and bone. Pure white then black stars fill his vision before everything fades as he passes out.

So, yeah. If anyone were to ask him how he imagines his first day at the dormhouse was to go, Eita certainly wouldn’t have described it to be quite like this. Him laying unconscious in front of what is to be his new room for at least the next year, a volleyball slowly rolling away and his new roommate shouting for help. Their booming voice echoing through the old house as if he was shouting through a megaphone. 

Then again… Who would ever imagine having a volleyball spiked into their face by their new roommate?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Bubble-Bee) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/BGee93) | [PillowFort](https://www.pillowfort.io/BGee93)


	2. Next Time, More Meat!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Here's chapter 2 :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you begin reading, I just want to clarify something. Semi is seen, from what I have seen personally anyways, as an asshole/heavily sarcastic 24/7 /rude and so on. While yes, I can see him acting like this at times. I do not believe it accurately describes his character. I think in a setting where he's closely living with others he's respectful and nice and CAN have fun, exchange banter and jokes etc. So if you find him to be ooc in this, please refrain from stating so and this is my personal take on him. If it bothers you please just leave this fic, because this is how I see him and I will ignore comments mentioning it. Thank you <3

“Well,” his mother’s voice cracks as the connection wavers. Grinning as her face pixels for a brief moment Eita leans into his hand, chin resting on his fist as he waits for her to become clear again. “You look less like a thug now,” snorting he rubs subconsciously at the fading bruise below his eye. Wincing slightly when he presses to hard on the sensitive area.

“Gee thanks Ka-san,” voice dripping in pure sarcasm. His mom titters at him, lips lifting in a grin as her eyes roll.

“That’s _Okasan_ to you Eita,” she scolds without any real heat behind it. “Just because you’re in College does not mean your manners get thrown away with childish rebellion behaviors,”

“Or,” lifting himself from his fist he shoots her a double finger gun and a wink with the wrong eye. Wincing he grabs the icepac and places it over the area again, slowly numbing it before continuing. “I could just use english and call you ‘ _’Ma, Mom,_ ” grinning wickedly, her groan already filtering through his speakers before he even utters the word in his thick accent. “ **Mother,** ”

“And I could disown you, adopt Satori, and have the son I always dreamed of,” he nearly snorts at her struggle to keep her features as deadpanned and serious as possible. While failing miserably. Gasping dramatically he lays the back of a hand against his forehead, leaning back as the other hand grips his hoodie.

“Ouch,” closing his eyes he whines out- “I’m wounded,”

“I’m sure you are my little drama queen,” her snort, so much like his own, echoes through the room as he sits normally again. Quirking a brow and corner of his lips he shakes his head.

“I am not a drama queen,”

“Spoken like a true queen ascending their throne,” sipping her tea his mom shoots him a look full of mirth. Crossing his arms and leaning his head on them Eita belts out a rolling laugh.

“Why are you like this,”

“Because I had you,” he peeks up at her through his bangs, face beginning to ache from smiling so much. She winks, sending a blinding grin right back at him. 

“Oh my god,” sitting up straight again he shakes his head. Running a hand through his duo toned hair Eita pushes the locks away from his face. They remain quiet for a few moments. Eita accepting defeat against his mother and her basking in yet another win of a banter challenge with him.

“You will never outwit me dear, stop trying,” she gets up to refill her tea, humming softly until she sits in front of the screen again. Eita’s grin turns into a soft, fond smile. A dull ache spreads through his chest as he realizes how much he misses her. She’s always worked so hard to give him everything he and his sister ever wanted, including going to amazing schools. It’s why he worked his ass off to get into Shiratorizawa through scholarship, just in case his grades didn’t land him there. But, it had cut into spending time with her since he’d been required to live on campus. And now, he lives in a dormhouse despite it only being slightly more than an hours travel from home to school. She’d encouraged him to though, probably the only reason he’d even agreed to live away from home if he’s being honest…

A blaring alarm rips through the gentle moment. Jerking in shock Eita nearly topples his lukewarm coffee off the small desk he shares with his roommate. Grasping the mug he curses when some of the liquid spills over anyways. 

“Shit,”

“Language Eita,” snapping his face up to look at her he opens his mouth to- “And don’t you _dare_ say Japanese,” to be shot down in his smartass responce before he can even utter a syllable. Huffing out Eita uses a tissue to clean up the brown splotches on the desk and his hand. Checking the alarm he mouths out a curse this time.

“I have to let you go,”

“Oh?”

“It’s my turn to make dinner,” rubbing his hands over his face Eita hopes no one is home just yet. It’s his turn since he’d only had one class that morning and he was over an hour late prepping it. 

“Oh, alright. I love you _mame_ ,” groaning at her nickname for him Eita gives her a look that says ‘ _seriously?_. To which she just sticks her tongue out to the side, eyes squinting as she grins. 

“Love you too… Ma,” carefully announciating the English word he stands, stretches out his sore from sitting too long muscles. 

“Stop that nonsense and go make dinner!” chuckling at her he leans over to put his face back in frame.

“Okay Oka-san,” as he moves the mouse to log off she stops him.

“Oh! One more thing,”

“Hmm?”

“Are you ever going to speak to the poor boy who gave you that?” he finger ways in what he guesses is the direction of his black eye. Lowering his eyes he scoffs instead of answering to which she scoffs right back. “I’m sure he didn’t mean to, and whenever I see him hovering behind you he looks so sad,” quirking a brow up Eita thinks _good, he should feel bad_ but his mother starts lecturing him about it all over again. For probably the millionth time since it happened. 

“He spiked a Volleyball into my face, from across our tiny as hell dorm room,” 

“Mame…” dropping into the chair to sit eye level with her again he waves his arms around in frustration. Even though he knew it was useless he argues with her about how he doesn’t have to forgive the dumbass, and how he’s not a short, lanky kid anymore so her “endearing” nickname for him is just insulting. 

After several minutes of back and forth Eita feels mentally drained. Slumping back against the chair he rubs his palms into the skin of his face roughly. His mom falls quiet as she waits for him to speak again. Letting his hands fall he deadpans in her pixelated direction, voice dropping low as he finally concedes to her wish. 

“I’ll… Try,”

“Thank you,” her voice drops low as well as they finally say bye, her promising to tell his sister he said hi, Promising he’ll visit soon Eita logs off, closes his laptop and just sits there deeply thinking about his roommate. Sighing he digs his fingers into his scalp. He barely ever sees the guy anyways, who knows, maybe it’ll be awhile before he’s forced to cash in the promise to talk to him. Tossing his laptop onto his bed Eita finally walks downstairs to begin making dinner.

✿°。 ✿°  
✿°。 ✿°

The heavy-creaking front door was closed behind whoever just arrived home. The sound of shuffling and sighing flows through the air and filters into the kitchen. Smirking Eita guesses the first to arrive home is Matsukawa. The dude could drink ten espressos in one sitting and still look exhausted. 

“Smells good,” looking over his shoulder Eita mentally congratulates himself on being correct. Matsukawa tosses his bag onto the floor by the archway into the hall before slumping into one of the stools. Leaning on his elbows he watches Eita prepare the meat he’s about to toss into the pan. 

“Thanks, wanna help?” earning a barely there grin Matsukawa settles his chin into one of his palms. His tired, dark eyes shine in amusement as he declines Eita’s request.

“Nah ‘m good,”

“Uh huh,” placing the meat into the simmering sauce in the pan he quickly washes his hands, grabs a knife and begins preparing the vegetables. Matsukawa’s eyes go between watching him go back and forth from the stove to the chopping board and his cell screen. The bell ringing noise that invades the air between them tells Eita the man is texting. The smell of cooking pork causes his stomach to rumble as his hunger grows.

“Hey do y’know if everyone’s added their share into the grocery fund yet?” looking up from the rice cooker he’s emptying Eita shakes his head at Matsukawa’s question.

“No why?”

“It’s my turn to go shopping,” humming softly Eita wipes his hands on a dishtowel as they stare at each other. Expecting Matsukawa to get up and check the list himself Eita huffs in annoyance as the others gaze remains on him expectantly. Mumbling about how he feels like a parent dealing with a child Eita walks over to the list himself and looks. 

“Ah, um… Looks like everyone but me and… Bokuto-san have added their share,” flicking his eyes back to Matsukawa he sees the raven haired man nod, typing away on his phone. “I can get you the cash in the morning before my class?”

“Sure,” the sound of the front door being pushed open, grunts of effort and creaking grossly harmonizing, before being closed again disrupts anymore discussion between the two. Their eyes turn to the entrance of the kitchen as Moniwa shuffles inside. His bag joins Matsukawa’s by the archway as he tiredly waves in greeting, cheeks flushed in a bright blush over his entrance being noticed. Eita grins, barely holds back a snort, as he waves back. The poor guy always gets easily flustered and the old house they lived together in causes his every move to be easily heard. Hence a constantly, very red Moniwa. 

“Hi,” his soft voice barely reaches his ears as Eita begins chopping the rest of the veggies.

“Hey Moniwa-san,” his voice mixes with Matsukawa’s, who is also grinning at Moniwa’s embarrassment. At least the other male has the decency to hide it by looking straight at his phone and not at Moniwa. 

“What are you making?”

“Yasai Itame,” Moniwa makes and excited noise which he quickly hides by clearing his throat, cheeks flushing darker when Eita sends him a chuckle and wink.

“Smells delicious,” a titter escapes as Eita tries not to laugh at the crack in Moniwa’s voice. 

“Thanks,”

“Need… Need any help?” gasping dramatically, a playful mood running through him now, Eita lays the knife down and motions in the direction of Moniwa. Arms flailing wildly as he stares at Matsukawa, who simply watches with a raised brow. 

“Why can’t you be more like Moniwa-san!?” Matsukawa barks out a laugh as Moniwa squeaks in confusion. Deadpanning as best as he can Matsukawa tries to play along with the clear banter invitation. They go back and forth for a few minutes, playing up a mother versus disappointing child skit, before giving Moniwa mercy. Their hot, impossibly red face barely covered by their hands as he squeakily begs them to stop. Eita can hear the soft giggles slipping through his fingers though, telling him Moniwa’s not mad about the teasing as he chuckles and picks up the knife again. Matsukawa snorts as he goes back to leaning on a hand, face looking at his screen again.

“Actually if you wouldn’t mind helping me chop the vegetables while I finish the meat that’d be great,” Moniwa slips off the stool before he even stops speaking. Unable to help himself Eita gets one more dig in against Matsukawa. “At least someone helps me,” they exchange funny faces, Matsukawa sticking his tongue out at him while Eita scrunches his nose up and crosses his eyes, before Matsukawa responds. 

“‘M studying,”

“Sure you are,” he and Moniwa mumble. They shoot Moniwa a shocked glance as the quiet man just lowers his face even further, trying to ignore Eita and Matsukawa’s eyes on him. This only prompts them to burst into a round of laughter which heats Moniwa’s face up all over again. 

✿°。 ✿°  
✿°。 ✿°

“Has anyone seen Bokuto-san today?” Moniwa’s sudden question draws everyone’s eyes in his direction. They look from him to each other and back again as each one begins to slowly shake their heads. 

“Nope,” Eita turns the page of his textbook as he chooses to ignore the question outright. “Nuh-uh,” Matsukawa shrugs as he taps his pen against the empty page of his notebook, cell in his other hand as he skims through something. “No,” Sawamura scratches the back of his neck, head tilting to the side as he tries to remember the last time he saw the man in question.

Iwaizumi walks into the lounge area, mug of steaming hot chocolate in one hand while the other grips the notes he was about to go over for tomorrow lecture. Taking in the confused look across Sawamura’s face and Moniwa’s concerned one he steps up next to Moniwa. 

“What’s wrong Moniwa?” Eita glances up through his bangs to watch the exchange. Moniwa’s arms are crossed over his chest, head dipped low in thought as his lip is trapped between his teeth. Iwaizumi’s question causes his head to snap over to him, eyes going wide and lip releasing from its place.

“Nothing!” Iwaizumi huffs and shoots him a soft but firm smile, clearly stating silently that he doesn’t believe him at all. Sighing, shuffling his feet a bit, Moniwa gives Iwaizumi a sheepish smile in return. Reluctantly speaking up on his concerns. “Just… He doesn’t usually stay out this late…”

“You keep track of his schedule?” Eita finds himself questioning, his mouth opening before he can stop it while his head raises fully from his textbook. 

“He keeps track of all our schedules,” blinking at Sawamura, Eita shoots an amused grin at Moniwa at the revelation. 

“... Seriously?” the short, former setter huffs in his own defence. His fists clenching as he practically pouts at a softly snickering Sawamura. Eita chuckles, lifting his textbook to cover his face, as he imagined Moniwa throttling Sawamura for revealing that little tidbit about their shy roommate with the novel he gripped under his arm. Looking away from Sawamura, Moniwa startles as he sees everyone’s eyes on him again. 

“I’m sorry! I promise I’m not some weird creep or anything!” the words rushed out in one breath, his hands waving in front of him as his cheeks broke out in a classic Moniwa blush. Moniwa’s eyes catch Eita’s, a look of requesting help spread through them.

“I, I never thought you were?” slipping his pen inside the textbook as a bookmark Eita closes it and sets it on the coffee table. Eyes going back to Moniwa as he turns sideways in the armchair, legs dangling over the side. Moniwa sighs, slumps into the other chair as Iwaizumi moves to sit next to Sawamura. 

It’s a hilarious sight, seeing two men more on the buffer side try to sit next to each other on a small sofa. Iwaizumi refuses to move to another seat, even as he squishes Sawamura to one side. In retaliation Sawamura starts pushing against Iwaizumi, eyes trying, and failing, to remain on his notes. The two casually slip into a challenge of who can smush the other into the opposite armrest. Rolling his eyes at them, having quickly gotten used to their childish rivalries soon after moving in, Eita turns his attention back to Moniwa who has begun stumbling over an explanation. 

“I uh… I just… I got so used to keeping track of others as Captain… I just um…” trailing off Moniwa chews on his lip again, but at least he doesn’t look away. Eita counts this as progress. Before he can reassure Moniwa that he doesn’t mind the action of his schedule being memorized, thinks it may actually come in handy eventually, Matsukawa cuts in.

“Hey it’s fine,” standing, stretching out until his joints crack, Matsukawa yawns as he gives Moniwa his own reassurance. “You do you,” shrugging he leans over to pick up his mug, chugging back what’s left of his coffee.

“Ushijima used to do it too, in a way,” Moniwa’s eyes turn from Matsukawa back to him. They go wide and curious as he tilts his head at Eita. 

“Really?”

“Mhmm. He was more focused on our training and diet schedules but it’s kinda the same thing I guess? Just his way of looking out for us, in his own odd way,” 

“Odd!?” snorting as Moniwa’s worried shout he waves his hands out in apology.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply you’re odd,”

“Y’kinda are though,” huffing at Iwaizumi, who is now being sat on by Sawamura as Sawamura tries to completely shove Iwaizumi out of the sofa, Eita gives him a glare. Even teasing, which he knows Iwaizumi is just teasing, Moniwa was clearly self conscious about the subject. At least in this moment. Before he can calm Moniwa again Matsukawa finishes his drink, chokes out a dry laugh and full heartedly agrees with Iwaizumi.

“Matsukawa-san that’s rude,” his comment causes the others to all deadpan in his direction. Blinking, startled, Eita whispers out a what just as Matsukawa begins leaving the room. His voice answering the question that nobody seems willing to speak up about but are also clearly thinking as they avoid Eita’s gaze.

“Says the one who won’t give his roommate the time of day,” catching his eyes as he looks over his shoulder, Matsukawa bluntly, openly speaks. “Let alone _speak_ to him,” turning around the corner Matsukawa disappears. Eita’s mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, jaw slack and eyes slowly blinking. It takes several awkward moments before Sawamura finally pushes Iwaizumi off the sofa, a breathless _’Hah!’_ breaking the tension. Eita chuckles while Iwaizumi shouts that Sawamura cheated somehow. Beside him Moniwa whispers in awe, eyes still looking in the direction of where Matsukawa left-

“I think that’s the most amount of words I’ve ever heard him speak,” he flushes when the three of them burst into rolling laughter at his softly spoken statement. His laughter dies down first, a weight of guilt over Matsukawa’s words settling into the pit of his stomach.

✿°。 ✿°  
✿°。 ✿°

When two more hours passed with no sign of his roommate, Eita agreed to go out with Moniwa to look for him. Sawamura joined and the three of them split up to cover the areas they thought Bokuto may be at. Sawamura took the local areas like the coffeeshop, park and oval while Moniwa began searching near the buildings Bokuto has classes. Eita volunteered to check the student gym and the court where the Volleyball team practices. 

Shivering against the chill of the late night Eita grumbles through his chattering teeth. He’d been so preoccupied by his own gnawing guilt that he’d forgotten to bring his jacket with him. The weather hinting that Fall is closer than he’d thought. 

Catching sight of the building where the court is located Eita sighs in exasperation when he sees it brightly lit. A clear sign someone is still inside. Quickening his steps he half-jogs towards the open doors. 

Stepping into the warmth he rubs at his arms while his eyes scan the large room. There’s no noise from within, the floors are cleaned and the net isn’t up. Hesitating Eita thinks that maybe someone just forgot to turn off the lights when he spots a gym bag sitting on the bleachers. Walking over to it he recognizes it as Bokuto’s, the little owl and mini volleyball keychains attached to the zipper a clear giveaway. He’s seen it enough times to know them anywhere. Turning to look around, eyes squinting as he begins scanning every corner, Eita shouts out-

“Hey!” his voice echoes back at him. “What the fuck are you doing?” still no answer is shouted back. Swinging the bag over his shoulder, just in case the dumbass actually forgot it, Eita slowly walks the length of the court. A wave of nostalgia washes over him as he listens to his sneakers squeak and scuff over the floor, the smell of dry sweat and floor wax filling his lungs. 

“Hello!?” halfway around the court he sees him, slumped over his bent knees beneath the bleachers. “ _Asshole,_ ” he whispers when Bokuto still doesn’t bother acknowledge him, again. Grumbling darkly Eita stomps in his direction.

“Bokuto-san,” nothing. Not even a twitch. Slowing his steps Eita grows worried. Boring his eyes into Bokuto’s figure he tries to make out whether the man is injured or even breathing. The sense of nostalgia quickly replaced by a shock of fear. His voice drops low as he simply repeats their name every few steps.

“Bokuto-san?” he kneels next to the curled up figure, bag dropping to the floor with a soft thud as he reaches a hand out to touch their shoulder. Eita takes in the damp hair dangling against Bokuto’s grey sweater Dark water stains telling him he’s been sitting here long enough for the droplets to cease. Grasping the chill, wet shoulder he gives it a soft shake. Breathing a deep sigh of relief, nerves relaxing as he slumps back, when their head turns to the side. Golden tinted eyes peeking through the strands of black and grey hair up at him. The relief is short lived when Eita realizes that the eyes are extremely red rimmed, puffy, and definitely still watery with unshed tears.

“Oh… Uh…” Bokuto turns his head away from him, burying it back into his arms that remain crossed tightly over his knees. “Anything I can do?” awkwardly Eita sat on his knees facing them. Twirling his fingers together in a nervous habit he thought he’d outgrown but it always creeps back in at moments. Bokuto doesn’t react, remains still and silent as if he hasn’t heard Eita. Huffing out a breath of air Eita waits there, twiddling his fingers together and around as he looks everywhere but at the softly crying man sitting in front of him. 

After several long, impossibly awkward moments of stilled silence, Eita flops onto his butt. Stretching out the numbing limbs before slowly shuffling closer to Bokuto. Curling up to mimic Bokuto, Eita turns his head onto his own arms as he swings his whole body to lightly bump into the others. His movements jerky and unsure. Thankfully Bokuto turns to look at him again, a hand coming up to brush the nearly dry strands of hair away from his face. Eita winces before he can stop himself. 

Bokuto’s nose was running and his eyes are red enough that they look sore and itchy. Sniffling back the snot, brushing his leaky nose against the sweater, Bokuto straightens himself to look at Eita properly. Or at least he tries to, his hair falls back into his face once his chin comes down to rest on his arms. Biting his lip, fingers twitching, Eita second guesses himself for just a moment, before he leans in. His fingers gently brush away the stray locks, moving them away from Bokuto’s emotionally open face. The movement causes him to nearly sit flush against Bokuto but he chooses to ignore the heat he can feel seeping off the other. Dropping his voice low Eita tries to soften his voice before he speaks.

“Want me to leave?” the usually sharp eyes, now dull and sad, stare into his for a few seconds before Bokuto slowly, hesitantly begins to shake his head. He stops himself though, causing Eita to pause as well. Blinking now widened eyes up at him Bokuto shudders in a breath. Bringing a hand up Eita scratches the short hairs at his nape, unsure if that was a confirmation or a denial now. “Want me to… Sit… With you?” 

Bokuto looks away from him. Eita catches a glimpse of his eyes filling with tears again. Clearing his throat Eita looks away as well, unsure of what the hell is happening. Unsure if they want him here or not. Resisting the urge to sigh again Eita wishes, just once in his young life, he could have had a normal, or even semi-normal, roommate. As he begins cursing the roommate gods for fucking him over Bokuto’s voice, deep, hoarse, and filled with negative emotion, cuts through his inner monologue.

“Don’t have to, I know you hate me,” he turns his head to stare guiltily into the side of Bokuto’s head, which is completely turned from him like it had been earlier. Eita’s unsure how to answer. It’s not like he actually hates him, he’s just not… Fond of him? That seems like a terrible answer though so he remains quiet. Until Bokuto’s watery, wavering voice whispers- “ _Like everyone else here…_ ”

“Why would you…” his voice is sharper than he expected as he nearly shouts the question. Bokuto flinches, Eita curses under his breath and his face scrunches up in an apologetic wince. Taking a second to suck in a large gulp of oxygen into his lungs, Eita calms himself before speaking. This time though, he doesn’t ask what he meant to. “Why’d you spike a ball into my face?”

Bokuto’s head snaps in his direction. Jaw slackens before clamping tight. Eyes going from slitted tp wide and back again in a repeating cycle as, or so Eita would guess, Bokuto tries to process the change in questioning. Remaining as calm and patient as he can, Eita waits for an answer. He’s shivering again, his phone chiming several times in the timeframe it takes the other to finally answer. Head bowing till the hair is cascading over his face like a halo. 

“Sorry,” the raw emotion is almost gone from his voice now, but the sadness in it lingers. Eita nods despite the fact that they can’t actually see him do it. “Didn’t mean to,” quirking a brow at the tacked on admission Eita reaches out to brush the hair away from their face again. Ignoring how soft it feels as it easily slips through his fingers like silk. The more life filled eyes blink dumbly up at him as Bokuto raises his head along with Eita’s fingers.

“Okay, thanks, but why?” a small smirk shows Eita a flash of white teeth, a canine poking out adorably from the corner before it disappears as quickly as it showed up. The grin falls and fades so quickly Eita questions whether he saw it at all.

“My best friend didn’t think I could…”

“A dare?” he snorts, a noise which brings another flashing grin to show up. “You gave me a black eye because of a dare?”

“More like a provocation that amounted to an incitement to act upon what was clearly a challenge of my abilities,” Bokuto ran his own hand through his hair, his warm hand sliding against Eita’s in the process. A flush broke out over the tips of his ears as he realizes he’d had his hand buried in Bokuto’s hair the whole time. Snatching his hand back he holds it to his chest, knees coming up tighter against his chest to block the appendage to him. Eita nearly, and he means nearly, squeaked when Bokuto’s face suddenly turns to stare intensely at him. 

“Did I use those words correctly?” Eita blinks. Leans away from Bokuto who is suddenly so very, very close to him as he stutters out an answer.

“Uhm… Pretty sure yeah?”

“Okay… Good,” Bokuto sighs in relief and stretches his legs out. Knees cracking loudly as he raises his arms as much as the bleachers would allow. Unsure what to do now that they seem okay, Eita’s awkwardness comes back. His fingers pinching his knuckles this time as he glances away from Bokuto to look around the room. Words bubble up like word vomit as he rushes out whatever comes to him first.

“Are you hungry?” _Okay wow, good question Eita. He’s obviously gonna be hungry he’s been here for fucking hours! Unless he was smart enough to bring food he probably hasn’t eaten since… Well fuck if I know but I bet it’s been awhile…_ His words keep rushing out through his inner monologue. Eyes wandering around aimlessly, looking without seeing. “There’s Yasai Itame at the house,” he does squeak this time when Bokuto suddenly plops to squat in front of him. His hands slapping down onto the waxed floor so hard his palms and wrists ache dully. 

“Pork or Sausage?”

“...Pork?...” Bokuto nods sagely, thumb and finger pinching his chin as he thinks. After a moment he nods as if that had been the right answer. Eita’s nose crunches up and his brows crease. Bokuto’s eyes zone in on his again as he asks another question.

“How much meat to vegetable ratio?”

“What?” he stutters as he stares at Bokuto to see if he’s serious. The other’s face is now a blank slate. Eyes still red but barely noticeable. Hair hanging around his face in gentle waves. When Eita didn’t answer Bokuto tilts his head to the side, eyes continuing to stare far too intensely into his. “The… The usual?” he finally manages, which doesn’t seem to be the answer they were looking for as Bokuto pouts. Stone expression dropping to look childish as his bottom lip juts out so far Eita can see a glint of spit on it. He barely holds back a snort as Bokuto states in a whiny tone-

“I need to know, it’s a serious question,” shaking his head Eita pushes on their chest as he fights his way to standing. Needing some space between them. Bokuto moves away from him easily but quickly follows behind him as he also stands. 

“Like… I don’t fucking know, ⅔ veggies and ⅓ meat or some shit?” he has to turn around and remind Bokuto of his gym bag when they make it halfway across the stadium. Bokuto gasps, races back for it and sprints quickly back to Eita’s side. Shaking his head Eita just gives him an incredulous look before heading for the entrance again. The biting wind making him debate whether or not he could get away with sleeping inside the court for the night.

“Okay… But…” wrapping his arms around himself to attempt to hold some warmth against his body Eita listens as Bokuto gives him a… Suggestion. “Next time can you ask whoever makes it to add more meat, I’ll pay for it!” his snort falls past his lips this time just as a gust of wind has him cursing. Shivering he grunts at Bokuto’s obvious exclamation that he should wore a jacket. Barely biting back a ‘ _No shit, really!?’_ Eita remembers an important fact.

“Oh! That reminds me,” sidestepping so he can face Bokuto as he speaks Eita reminds him that he owes money to Matsukawa. “You have to add your portion of the grocery fund,” Bokuto gasps, slapping a hand against his forehead.

“Crap I forgot about that! I’ll do it in the morning. Think that’ll be okay? Will Mattsun be mad?” _Mattsun?... He must mean Matsukawa. Did he forget his name?_ shaking his head Eita skips back to face forward again. His cheeks either heating in a flush as he beings talking word vomit again, or simply from the cold nipping at his skin. He chose to believe it’s just the wind.

“I… I have to uh,” clearing his throat Eita wills his stutter to go away. “Go to the bank in the morning. To get my share for it. Did… Did you want to come with me?” a hand encircles his arm, stopping him. Turning to look at a confused Bokuto, Eita raises his brow in question. 

“Really?” the tone of voice states that Bokuto doesn’t believe he wants him to join him in the morning. And maybe he doesn’t, not really. Maybe he’s asking out of guilt, or he’s asking because Bokuto was just crying in front of him. Sort. It’s also possible he’s just asking because Matsukawa’s words have been echoing in his mind all night. But somehow Eita manages to smile, nod and say without any hesitation whatsoever-

“Wouldn’t have asked otherwise, now would I?” Bokuto’s face instantly lights up as he links their arms together.

“Okay! Let’s do it!” 

Eita barely catches his breath when they arrive back at the dormhouse. Bokuto having forced him to skip with him the rest of the way. Gasping, shivering in the entranceway the two males are thoroughly chastised by an annoyed Daichi, Iwaizumi **and** Moniwa at having not answered their texts. Eita almost feels bad, but he bursts into laughter as Moniwa states he was on the verge of calling the police. He would have felt much worse about worrying them, if it hadn’t been for Bokuto’s sheepish grins he kept sending in his direction.

It should be illegal to have a grin like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if I made any mistakes especially with translations or honorifics!
> 
> Okasan - mother.  
> Mame - translation I'm using for this is 'bean'. So Eita's mom calls him bean.   
> Yasai Itame - a kind of stir fries vegetables with meat. I paired it with plain rice in this as the recipe I found said some prefer it with rice while others don't.

**Author's Note:**

> [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Bubble-Bee) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/BGee93) | [PillowFort](https://www.pillowfort.io/BGee93)


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